


Puppy Love

by Garish_Flower



Category: British Singers RPF, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 101 Dalmatians Fusion, Dogs, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by 101 Dalmatians, Slow Build, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21816022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garish_Flower/pseuds/Garish_Flower
Summary: After your abrupt relocation to Central London, you and your dog quite literally run into Paul McCartney. You are the only girl to cause his charming persona to crumble.
Relationships: Paul McCartney/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Puppy Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey cuties! I KNOW I promised this would be up on Thursday, but I FINALLY got it up. This fic is going to probably be fairly long (i’m hoping maybe 8 chapters?) the 101 dalmatians portion will be coming shortly. I’m just trying to establish a relationship y’all. Also this is my first Beatles fic so let me know what you think!

Your move to central London was not an ideal one; it was sort of a pick up what you can stuff into your car and leave to escape your problems, kind of a deal. None the less, you grabbed your dog Samson and headed away from the quiet coast and into the bustling city. It had been little over a year since your relocation and you still stuck to the same routine; wake up, let out Samson, go to work, come home, make dinner, take Samson to the park, and fall asleep on the couch together. You hardly had a life outside work and your dog.

Not that you were complaining, you’d gotten Sammy as a way to help you learn responsibility and give you a sense of purpose in life once more, taking care of a 9-week-old Newfoundland pup provided that for you. He’d been with you through a break up, graduating college, and now relocating to a new city all by the time he was a sprightly 2 years old. Sometimes it felt like he was more taking care of you than you were of him, with him making sure you got up for work, got you to go outside more than once a day, and ate with him. Overall it was a loving friendship.

But that friendship was slightly strained due to your temporary living conditions. Your flat wasn’t the largest, so he proved to be underfoot most of the time, knocked things around in your cluttered apartment, and annoyed the neighbors with his bellowing barks.

Your day at work had been exhausting, when you walked through the door Samson promptly ran up to you, jumping, putting his paws on your shoulder, and slobbering all over your top. You lightly pushed him to the side and plopped your stuff on the chair next to the front entrance and flopped onto the sofa. Samson followed, poking you with his nose _play with me_ his big brown eyes pleaded as they stared into you. Your exhausted face couldn’t help but break into a grin as you pulled him into your chest, ruffling his soft fur and ears just the way he liked “Wanna go outside, Sammy?” You asked, suddenly jumping up. Your dog responded, barking loudly and playfully jumping along with you “Well, do you want to eat first? Or do you want to go to the park?” You asked.

It was as though he understood the words you said and looked from the window, to the kitchen, and back to the window again and barked once more. It was settled; park first then dinner.

You and Samson had a little race to the door, tripping over him and stumbling in the process. You grabbed his leash and hooked it on his collar, he tugged at you lurching you forward with his massive strength and you quickly grounded your feet, not moving and giving him a look reminding him to mind his manners. He let out a high-pitched whine as an apology and politely sat with his tail wagging and waited for you to lead the way. Your walk to the park was short and you were thankful because the weather was Samson’s favorite, cool, cloudy, and damp. Despite it technically being spring, you still wore a thick jacket and hat, tugging both around you to help cover up from the cold air.

Samson’s excitement bubbled from him, you could tell he was walking with determination “Calm down, Sammy, the park isn’t going anywhere.” You said in an attempt to remind him to stay by your side as you walked with him. He tugged you along much to your displeasure, so you were happy to park yourself on a bench with Samson next to you. You reached at the clip on his leash “You gonna behave if I put this down?” You asked, poking his nose.

He sneezed in response and you frowned, wiping some droplets of liquid from your hand “Don’t go running off, I won’t catch you.” You teased before letting the leash fall to the ground. Samson did as he was told and sat poised next to you.

The poise was broken a few minutes later when he began to eagerly thump his tail, you looked down and saw the playful glint in his eyes as his gaze followed the Old English Sheep Dog that passed the two of you. You followed his gaze and your eyes settled upon a tall thin man with a tacky hat and long jacket on. The stranger caught your gaze and you sheepishly turned away, back to the book you were reading.

Samson nuzzled his head against your hand and let out a content groan; you gripped his leash in case he would thin running off was a smart idea and continued to sit contently reading your book. You couldn’t avoid Samson’s little grunts and groans as he sat next to you, seeing the Sheep Dog and their owner playing and becoming jealous of their interaction. You sighed, closing your book and stuffing it into your dee pockets and stood up, “Wanna play?” You asked taking out a ball and shaking it in front of him.

Samson jumped and barked loudly in excitement and chased the ball, bringing it back after you threw it. After the two of you played for a bit longer you were reminded to check your watch from the hunger pains coming from your stomach, “Come on Samson, we’ve got to eat.” You reminded him, getting up and pulling him along. Samson let out a harrumph and lazily trotted along.

The Sheep Dog barked loudly to catch Samson’s attention, he stopped and looked at the black and white dog as if to challenge it to play with him and it worked. You felt yourself lurch and stumble forward unexpectedly and in a crude attempt to catch your balance and run with Samson, found yourself crashing into the stranger and becoming tangled in the two leashes. Not only did you fall on top of each other, but you had managed to stumble back into the pond you had been sitting in front of earlier. The water was still bitterly cold from winter which sent a painful sting into your bones and a screech to erupt from your lungs as you and your jacket got soaked “Samson!” You shouted at him, hitting your hands on the water in frustration, you shivered violently, and your teeth chattered against each other “You- you,” You said getting up and groaning in frustration “You’ve been so naughty, no park for the rest of the week.” You were angry; Samson let out an apologetic whine and laid down on the grass, looking up at you with big brown eyes “Don’t give me that look, it wont work.” You tutted taking off your hat and scarf, ringing them out. Amidst your grumbling a hand tapped your shoulder, you turned your head sharply “What!” You snapped in frustration.

The man’s hair was wet and slicked back, his wide hazel eyes looked at you apologetically “I’m sorry, Martha doesn’t usually act like this.” He said sheepishly and reached out his hand.

You looked down and saw your book soggy and drooping from the water and let out a sigh before your face softened “No worries! I think it was Samson we tripped over anyways.” You said and let out a light laugh before grabbing the book from him.

He stood up and tried to brush off the excess wetness from his clothes but sighed in defeat, a sympathetic voice began to nag in the back of your brain causing you to feel guilty for this stranger “Listen, I have a flat not too far up the road I think I have some spare clothes you can change into to, I’ll dry your clothes.” You tried to hide the grumbling behind your offer.

The wet man looked up, he attempted to hide his shivering “Will you be making us dinner too?” He asked which resulted in a grin to break out across your frustrated features and a laugh to bubble from you.

“Sure, I can manage that.” You said smiling and gripping Samson’s leash once more.

\---

You’d managed to find a pair of sleep pants and an old shirt from your previous relationship that had ended nearly a year and a half ago. You didn’t know why you’d kept these things around, but this was the one time you were thankful for it.

You knocked on the bathroom door where Paul was changing, he poked his head from the corner “Thank you!” He smiled, taking the clothes from you and shutting the door.

You quickly changed and busied yourself in the kitchen, now dressed in a large sweater and a pair of lounge pants, “Alright, what are we having for dinner today?” You asked, looking down, typically Samson would be under your feet, but he seemed a lot more occupied by the sheep dog who had taken a seat in the hallway.

“I’m quite partial to cheese sandwiches.” You jumped and turned to see the man now changed, his hair messy and a towel slung over his shoulders, “Sorry” He said scratching the back of his head and giving you a cheeky grin, “Paul, by the way.” He reached out his hand which you promptly took, shaking it in your own and making note of the roughness and callouses that covered them.

“[Y/N],” You introduced, “That mess of trouble is Samson.” You said nodding back towards your dog who had since decided to bring his favorite toy over to Martha, nudging it towards her. You placed Samson’s bowl of food on the ground and a separate water dish for Martha, “Grilled cheese sandwiches?” You asked, peeking over your shoulder at Paul.

He rubbed Martha’s back as she stood next to him, craning down to drink water from the bowl. There was something so familiar about Paul, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, “Grilled is perfect actually.” He glanced up at you “Maybe some tomato soup too?” his big eyes pleaded with you.

You felt something soft stir inside you, how could you say no to a pretty face like his, “I should have some,” You mumbled to yourself and began to search through the cupboards finally finding a can towards the back. You lifted your leg to help prop yourself up and reached with one hand while steadying yourself with the other and let out a few strained grunts as you reached towards the back of your suspiciously deep cabinets.

Paul reached over you, easily grabbing the can from the back cupboard and set it on the counter, “Looked like you were struggling there.” He answered before handing you the can of soup.

You smiled up at him and took the can, setting it on the counter and opening it. You were thankful for the simplicity of tonight’s dinner, it was quickly finished and filled your belly. While you and Paul made mindless small talk, Samson continued to try to impress Martha, “Did you move to the city recently?” You asked Paul between bites of food.

He glanced up, “Oh, no I’m only in town for work temporarily.” He answered, “How about you?”

You truly hated small talk, but it was better than an awkward silence “Oh, I just moved here around two months ago from the coast.” You let out a small laugh “You’re actually the first person outside of work I’ve ever met.” You said shaking your head in disbelief at your hermit behavior.

“Been holed up at work?” He pressed.

You shrugged in response “All the people at my job bore me. I got an English degree to write stories not to proof read instruction manuals before they get printed.”

Paul quirked his eyebrow at you, “You write?” He asked.

You shook your head “Not anymore, work takes up most of my time, well work and Samson.” You said, Samson lifted his head up from the spot he was laying on “Yeah, you heard me big guy, you’re taking up too much of my time.” She joked.

Paul smiled softly “I do a bit of writing.”

You gave him a closed mouthed smile, “What type?” you were genuinely curious.

“Songs mostly.”

That was when it all clicked for you, the hat, the soft plush cheeks, the shaggy hair and round hazel eyes, the temporary living in central London. This was Paul McCartney from the Beatles, you froze mid bite as all the pieces of the puzzle came together in your head. You shifted slightly and averted your gaze, not wanting Paul to be scared off at your sudden recognition; he only wanted a warm meal, and dry clothes like any other person after all. You weren’t some crazed super fan, in fact you’d only heard a few popular songs on the radio and preferred to listen to jazz. “Right, songs.” You said softly “What kind?” Sappy love songs? You knew the type of music he wrote.

Paul shrugged his shoulders “Don’t know, what ever comes to mind I suppose.” He smiled and looked at Martha “I might even write a song about her someday.” He joked.

You nodded your head and let out a strained laugh “Right,” You answered, pushing your soup around with your spoon as an uncomfortable silence hung in the air while the two of you finished your dinner. After you left to collect Paul’s clothes from the dryer downstairs you found him nosing through your record collection. You smiled to yourself, thankful you had no Beatles records.

“What do you listen to?” He asked, hearing the door open and close, not caring that he was caught snooping through your things.

“We’ll you’re looking at my LPs so I think you can answer that for yourself.” You answered putting his warm clothes on the couch and folding them for him.

You turned to see Paul’s ears turn red at your retort “I didn’t think you’d be a jazz enthusiast.” He said eyeing up your copy of A Love Supreme by John Coltrane.

You shrugged your shoulders “I suppose I’m pretty partial to saxophone.” You admitted.

Paul pursed his lips and glanced back at you, “I suppose they’re alright.” He said a small smile playing on his face, “I like bass better though.”

A knowing smirk played on your face “Stand up or electric?” You pressed.

“Stand up.”

Oh, that answer actually took you by surprise, “I was half expecting you to say electric.” You said softly, smoothing your hands over his pants as you folded them and set them down onto your coffee table without wrinkles.

“Why?” He asked feeling his nerves begin to rise. He’d gone this long with out some crazed fan obsessing over him. The last thing Paul wanted was to be stuck in the house with one.

You shrugged your shoulders “Because you’re Paul McCartney.” You answered in a nonchalant manor.

“Oh,” Was all Paul managed to respond with, the tone of his voice told you he was disappointed you found out who he was.

You peaked over at him “Don’t worry, I’m not even a fan of the Beatles, prefer the Beach Boys if I need to be honest.”

Paul let out an audible scoff “The Beach Boys?” he said in disbelief.

You nodded your head “Did you hear Brian Wilson pour his heart out in Pet Sounds?” You would defend that album to your last breath.

Paul sighed “I guess you got me there. It is a good album.” He admitted in defeat, “But you really aren’t a fan?” he pressed you more.

You nodded your head “I guess I don’t fancy what the young people do these days.”

Paul gave you a cheeky grin before letting out a small laugh “I suppose I’ve stayed long enough.” He said gathering his pile of clothes, “I’ll wash these and return them,” He said looking down to the spare clothes he borrowed from you. Paul paused and cleared his throat, “Also if you are ever in the studio area feel free to stop by and tell the secretary that Martha sent you.”

You arched your brow questioning his odd answer “It’s so random people don’t try and sneak in during recording.” He answered sheepishly to which you nodded and let out a sound of acknowledgement. Paul rocked back on his heels “Right, well, thank you for the dinner!” He said with his hand on the door handle, you nodded your head, who would have thought the rumored charmer Paul McCartney would be so awkward when it came to goodbyes. You assumed, he didn’t leave places very often without sleeping with the person first and even if he did, they were more than likely the ones to do the walk of shame, not him.

\---

Several weeks had passed since your encounter with Paul and his dog Martha, neither of you had made any effort of contact, which you didn’t mind.

Or so you told yourself. Your loneliness and your mundane routine were beginning to slowly eat away at you and Samson, causing the two of you to become stir crazy.

You found yourself with a day off from your corporate job, which you were thankful for. You and Samson found yourselves walking the streets of London and soon were in front of the infamous recording studio that the Beatles frequented. You stopped, looking at the crowd outside of screaming teenagers and pursed your lips in thought. Paul did invite you to come by and visit him, so you wouldn’t be intruding. You pushed your way through smiling lightly as Samson’s bellowing barks caused the rowdy kids to part and jump from surprise before you came face to face with the security guards that were posted at the entrance.

“I- umm” You really had no idea what to say.

“Do you have an appointment?” One asked, peering down at your nervous form.

“Yes, Martha sent me!” You said and smiled confidently.

The security guards looked at each other and stepped aside, opening the door and allowing you in. You walked up to the front desk and shifted nervously “Hi, um, I was wondering where Mr. McCartney was?” You asked softly.

The secretary peered down at you and Samson, “No dogs allowed.” She said looking down at the gigantic dog.

You frowned, “He’s well behaved I promise.” You hoped you wouldn’t jinx yourself.

She looked at her appointment book, “It doesn’t look like Mr. McCartney has any appointments.” She said tapping her finger against the book.

Your eyes narrowed, “I’ll just find him myself.” You huffed, turning on your heel and walking with Samson down a randomly chosen hallway.

It was a mistake, coming here was a mistake, “What the hell was I thinking Sammy?” You asked taking another turn, revealing more rooms and offices. Samson whined and you sighed “I know, I know,” you answered, “Come on, let’s try down here.” You said tugging him towards a room. You opened it and were met with a well-dressed man in his early 30s who smiled up at you. You sputtered out an apology “Sorry, I- well, I’m lost.” You said letting out a sheepish laugh.

“Who are you trying to find, dear?” His voice was kind and well articulated.

You shifted uncomfortable “Paul?” Your statement came out as a question when you realized how stupid you must have looked wandering aimlessly through the studio.

“McCartney?” He asked, now sounding skeptical.

You let out a frustrated groan “He told me if I was ever in the area to stop and say Martha sent me, but then never told me where to meet him, bloody idiot.” You mumbled, shaking your head. You truly must have looked like a damn fool.

The business man tried to stifle a grin “Come on, I’ll take you to him.” He said, pushing himself out from his chair and grabbing several papers and leading you through a few hallways before you came to the door of a large studio room, larger than all the others you had passed.

Despite the soundproofing on the walls, you could still hear a muffled argument. The well-dressed man opened the door and immediately frowned, shaking his head “Christ, have you four gotten anything done since I stepped out?” He yelled over the group of four men arguing.

You immediately picked Paul out from the group, he was standing with his hands on his hips, stance wide and challenging. The four boys all talked over each other, trying to come up with an excuse for their arguing. All the yelling was beginning to rile up Samson, he anxiously began to pace from side to side, whining before breaking out into a full out run. The sudden jolt of force causing you to stumble forward “Samson!” You shouted tripping and falling, letting go of his leash. Samson proceeded to jump up, placing his paws on either side of Paul’s shoulders and standing at full height, nearly nose to nose with Paul and barked in his face.

“Samson?” He questioned, affectionally petting the dog on the head, Paul turned to see you standing and dusting your pants off “[Y/N]?” He sounded even more surprised to see you than he was of Samson.

“Is this that bird you were telling us about Paul?”

You turned towards the shaggy haired man you recognized as John. You didn’t care how famous they were, you were not a bird, “Bird?” You questioned in a bitter tone, narrowing your eyes at him and crossing your arms over your chest.

John smirked at your feisty attitude and move to say something but was promptly interrupted by Paul who’d pushed Samson off of him, “I guess it is.” He said, his voice soft.

John quirked a brow at his friend “Can’t keep track of all the pretty girls you meet?” He asked, causing Pau’s face and ears to turn red and him to sputter out a retort.

You yourself stifled a laugh and went to grab Samson, “I was just in the area, I wanted to take you up on your invitation.”

Paul nodded his head, leaning on a music stand that held sheets of paper on it. The music stand shifted causing the wide-eyed man to lose his balance and the papers to fall. “Right,” He said attempting to recompose himself while his bandmates all snickered behind him “It’s nice to see you again. Martha’s been dying for some company.”

You couldn’t hide your grin, “So has Sammy.” You said moving the leash. An awkward silence settled between the two of you while the three other boys talked amongst themselves, presumable about you and Paul, “Well, I better go. It looks like you’ve got your hands tied.” You said before beckoning Samson to follow you.

Paul protested, “Wait,” He said briefly stumbling over some of the various cords, as graceful as ever, “Do you want me to show you around the studio? You just got here.” His big eyes pleaded with you.

You chewed on your lip and looked at Samson who had taken up residence on the couch where George and John sat, draping his large body over them and making himself at home, “I don’t know, the secretary lady didn’t seem to fond of Samson being here.” You said shifting your weight from one leg to another.

Paul looked at you with pouty lips, “We’ll have Eppy clear everything up for you, please just a quick tour?” He continued to plead with you.

You looked back at Samson who was content getting scratches from the boys and then back at Paul, “Fine.” You said, sighing in defeat.

Paul’s face broke out into a large grin and he grabbed your hand without warning, pulling you through not only the studio, but also the surrounding rooms that they utilized as well, “This is the echo room.” He said opening the door to a large and semi dark room that suspiciously smelled like weed. “You don’t record in here, instead the sound filters through, sometimes we sit in here for -uh- inspiration, I suppose.” He said with a nervous smile. You arched your brow, right inspiration. “Anyways, shall we head back?” Paul asked once again gripping your hand and leading you around showing you a few other rooms before he finally returned to their own studio where he showed you his bass and plunked around on the piano just to show off.

You couldn’t help but feel the lingering warmth from his grip on your skin and frowned to yourself, “It was nice to look around, but I should really find Samson and head back.” You said rubbing your hands over the smooth and sleek piano he was fiddling around on.

He peaked up at you “Are you sure?” He asked, hoping he could come up with another excuse for you to stay and keep him company.

You shrugged your shoulders “I really don’t want to keep you tied up from recording,” There was a light hint of disappointment in your voice.

“Do you want to have dinner again sometime? You know, so the dogs have a little company?” He pressed.

You felt your face flush with heat, “Yeah!” You tried not to sound so eager “So-so the dogs can have some company.” You said before reaching down and scratching your phone number down on a piece of paper and gathering Samson, who was reluctant to leave the company and belly scratches the boys provided.

\---

That night you laid in bed, anxiously thinking about the way Paul held your hand, how his touch was so soft but the callouses on his fingertips scraped delicately against your skin causing contrasting feelings. You pressed your head into your pillow and let out a frustrated groan, “Fucking Christ, Samson. I can’t believe I just walked up there like a fool.” Samson laid next to you and let out a sigh, he was more exhausted than you were right now. You rubbed your eyes, not even tired and decided on giving up on sleep. You sat up in your bed with the night stand light on and paged through a new book since your old one had been ruined; you jumped when the shrill sound of your phone ringing broke the silence that had settled in your apartment.

Who was calling you at this hour?

You frowned, hoping it wasn’t the neighbor kids wanting to prank call you and answered “Hello? This is [Y/N].”

The voice on the other line sighed in relief, “Oh good, you are awake.” It was Paul. You couldn’t help but grin at his voice. He was already calling you so soon? “Did you want to go out for a few drinks? We just finished at the studio and were about to head out.”

Your stomach clenched, you looked down at the oversized shirt you had put on and chewed on your lip “I’m already in my pajamas.” You said frowning to yourself, you could almost hear the disappointment in Paul’s voice as he sighed, “But I can get ready quickly.” You hastily wrote down the address he’d given you and quickly got ready and attempted to make yourself look presentable.

Your cab dropped you off and you pushed the doors to the bar open and scanned the crowd before you settled on the group of four men in the back, you walked over and waved shyly at them.

Paul grinned and pulled you into a familiar hug before his hand settled on your lower back, “I’m happy you made it, love.” His face held a cheeky grin.

You pushed your hair out of your face and looked away from him briefly “Sorry, I had to get ready first. I was all ready for bed and then you called.” You answered truthfully.

Paul’s hand rubbed small circles on your back and you shivered into his touch, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted “Want a drink? We’ve got a pitcher.” You turned to see George holding up the large pitcher of beer and nodded your head.

“Might as well,” You grinned, taking the glass of the frothy and bitter liquid and gulped it down. It had been ages since you’d last grabbed a drink and had a night out, you settled in the booth comfortable nestled between Paul and George with Ringo and John across from you. You leaned comfortably into Paul’s side as his arm was loosely draped around your waist while you and John bantered with each other from across the table. Paul leaned into you to let you know he was going to the restroom and excused himself.

The other three quieted down and stared at you as you sipped your beer and glanced at them, “What? Have I got something on my face?” You asked, quirking your brow.

John was the first to speak up, naturally “He fancies you, ya know.” He stated it in a matter of fact tone, “Do you fancy him?”

You nearly choked on your drink and wiped your hand with the back of your mouth, “Do I what?” You asked, clearing your throat and staring back at them, your eyes wide with shock. Their silence and intense stares urged you to answer their question “I honestly don’t know, the first time I met him we literally fell into a pond together and now I’m here,” You chewed on your lip and thought hard about the situation you were in. Here you were with three of the most successful men of the century, being interrogated while their bandmate was in the bathroom, you shook your head remembering your last relationship and let out a frustrated sigh “My last relationship was a disaster and I don’t want to relive it.” you admitted.

John leaned back and nodded his head, “Paulie falls hard, just be careful, for both of your sakes.”

Speak of the devil.

Paul came back from the restroom, unaware of the intense conversation that was just had. You smiled and looked up at him as he beamed down at you before he resumed his position. You found yourself frowning while lost in thought, did they just have the ‘don’t hurt my boy’ talk with you like they were his parents? You watched the boys interacting together, John was their fearless leader, Paul the charming second in command, Ringo was surprisingly sassy, and George who had a dangerous combination of sharp tongue and whip. It shouldn’t have surprised you when John talked to you moments earlier. You glanced at the clock and frowned, it was nearly 12 am, “I should really get going,” You spoke suddenly, “It’s getting late and I don’t want trouble getting a taxi.” You tugged your purse under your shoulder and shifted to make your exit.

Paul looked at John and the back at you, “I can take you home if you like,” His face flushed, oh boy did that sound incriminating “To make sure you get back safe.” Nice save.

You felt your chest clench and you glanced at the other three boys, remembering the conversation you had earlier and let out a sigh “Okay, that would be nice actually.” You swallowed your nerves.

Together, you and Paul got up and made your way to the exit where their driver was waiting for him.

Of course, he had a driver.

On the ride to your home you and Paul discussed how your days went, you told him about how Samson tried to chase the birds at the park, and he told you about how some girl had managed to get past studio security and they practically went onto lock down. When the two of you arrived at your apartment, Paul insisted on walking you to your door with his hand in your own. The two of you stopped in front of your door and Paul let out a breathless laugh, “So,” He said, rocking back on his heels.

You smiled up at him, “So,” You repeated.

Paul pursed his lips nervously before he leaned down and left a chaste kiss on your cheek, “Good night” he said, his land lingering on your own.

Your face was burning you were happy it was so dimly lit in your outside hallways “Have a good night, Paul.” You looked down at his hand and broke away, hating how the cold air nipped at your skin, “Call me if you ever want to go out again.” You made sure to mention before you gripped the handle of your door.

Paul lingered behind you for a moment, waiting to make sure you got in all right and gave you a cheeky smile and wave good bye as you closed the door. Once it shut behind you, you looked through your peep hole and saw Paul leaving with a small hop in his step. You leaned your back against the door and slid down until you hit the floor, Samson came up and settled his face in your lap. You sighed running your fingers through his coarse hair, there was no question in it. You fancied him.


End file.
